


i know these roads, they all lead to you

by wajjs



Category: DCU, Green Lantern - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comfort No Hurt, Eloping, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29516262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wajjs/pseuds/wajjs
Summary: "Let's get married."The proposal makes sense in the meaning of the words themselves. But that's as far as the meaning goes. Nothing else about it makes any damn sense."You're bleeding out," Hal points out."Yeah, well."
Relationships: Guy Gardner/Hal Jordan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	i know these roads, they all lead to you

**Author's Note:**

> tbh i just wanted to write something in which they are both happy, so that's what i set out to do, you're welc

**i know these roads, they all lead to you**

"Let's get married."

The proposal makes sense in the meaning of the words themselves. But that's as far as the meaning goes. Nothing else about it makes any damn sense.

"You're bleeding out," Hal points out and he snorts as he does, chilled to the bone and following that same path.

"Yeah, well."

Nothing changes about the immediate space around them. It's cold, so cold it's nearly enough to numb them down to their very cores. It's likely that they won't make it out of here. And yet, experience tells them—experience tells them there is probably a rescue party coming, they haven't been forgotten, they won't be left behind. No, they won't.

But: what if?

Hal rests his head against the blocks of ice and stone surrounding them. Their rings are nearly completely out of power now.

"Alright," he says and Guy laughs. It's a short, wheezing sound. Which is about right.

They do make it out.

John's expression is a thing to be carved in stone so that it can be passed down onto the next generations.

It's a good thing they already have the matching engagement rings. They've had them all this time, emerald and shining like lighthouses for the shipwrecked and the drowned.

It's three months later and Guy knocks Hal on the side of the head—a clean, light touch of bare knuckles that brushes hair to get to the skin and bone underneath. Any other day, Hal would've replied with another hit. This time, he leans back into his seat, looks out into the ever green expanse that is Oa and hums.

"What d'ya think of courthouses?"

"Can't stand judges. 's a question of skin, ya know?"

They look at each other and Hal can see the raw, unending energy and life in Guy's eyes.

"Let's elope," he says next and can't quite believe he's actually pushing out the words. But see, they shook on it. Neither of them know how to go back on their words. "Vegas."

Guy's grin doesn't fit his face. It's too big, too bright. Like it should always be. "They are all gonna fuckin' hate it," and when he laughs it's clear that it comes from deep within his belly.

Nothing Guy Gardner ever does is small or half-assed. Hal has always respected that.

"Yeah, well," Hal joins in on the laughing. Something inside him feels less rattled. Lighter, somehow. "Eloping’s on the table then?"

Guy fistbumps him on the shoulder. "Hell yeah it is."

Of course they get married in the Justice League-themed church. They nearly get kicked out four different times but it's not their fault they can't stop laughing at the off-grey Batman suit and the Superman with the booty shorts and nearly sheer spandex.

Wonder Woman marries them. She looks nothing like the real deal, though those definitely are hard shoes to fill. When they ask to take a photo with her, they make sure to compliment the tired woman to hell and back. They'd tip but—they have shelled out on their thrifted wedding rings and in the payment for the service. They don't really have much more with them left. Sorry, uh. Sorry about that.

"Do we get tax reductions or somethin'?"

Guy makes some kind of noise from the kitchen where he's taking out the beer bottles from the freezer. "Dunno. We can ask B-man tomorrow."

Hal frowns from his spot on the couch (this of course means that he's taken over all of it, sprawled out with his head hanging off the armrest and he does not plan on moving anytime soon). 

"I don't think spooky knows shit 'bout taxes."

"What, like you do?"

"Damn it, Gardner, I just want the damn benefits and discounts."

Faking to be offended, Guy presses the butt of the nearly frozen over glass bottle on Hal's forehead. 

"My ma' always said this was a marriage of convenience."

The words make Hal snort so hard, he starts choking on his own spit while rolling off the couch in the process. All things considered, this is probably the greatest start their marriage could ever hope to have.

Their wedding night is spent just like this, of course: with them fighting over the couch, the old t.v. on but without sound—and it’s like there’s no difference at all. Like nothing in their lives has changed on a fundamental level, only the name, only the superficial. Probably because they trust each other so much, because they have seen what they look like at their absolute worst and still they’ve never lost… they’ve never lost faith. They never stopped seeing the light in one another, the greatness within, the _good_ that is undeniable except for the times they look in the mirror and _wonder._

And sure, while it’s true they’ve had their fights, awful, bloody and bruising in ways that reach the soul, while they’ve had those moments they can barely stand each other, those are meaningless in the larger scale of their shared experiences. At the end of the day, they would both die for each other. And if living is what it takes, then they would live.

On the screen there’s a movie of times past, black and white and with all that dancing. The woman is beautiful, radiant, looks like she’s flying as her skirt flows with each movement. Hal’s not sure when, but at some point his head ended on Guy’s shoulder as they both drank their beers in silence. It’s the casual nature of it, or, no, not casual. It’s how _natural_ it feels what does it for him, what drives the point home.

They are married.

They really are married. Silver bands around their fingers, so unlike the green they are used to, matching and glinting every now and then when the lights of the screen hit just right. Silver, because gold looks too much like the yellow they fight on a daily basis. Because they were cheaper, too.

Without thinking hard about it, Hal extends his hand, knowing Guy’s paying attention, that both of their eyes can’t help but focus on the addition to their wardrobes.

“Never thought I’d ever do this,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. Like his own vocal chords refuse to break the strange spell they have both fallen under, like there’s something _important_ about this moment that should not be gracelessly disrupted by loud proclamations.

Head still resting on the oth—his _spouse’s_ shoulder, Hal can feel the slight tremble caused by his laughter. Would you look at them now, acting all chummy and domestic. It’s a nice feeling.

“Hal Jordan, married,” and Guy laughs louder like he can’t help it, “yeah, can see why you’re surprised.”

“C’mon, man. Like you aren’t.”

There’s still that rumble that’s starting to feel like home. Or like it’s the best sound on this planet and all the others—the best song to ever come into existence. Christ. Less than one night together like this and he’s already waxing pathetic poetry about it. Next thing on the list will be raving about the pros of a bowl cul, Hal’s sure.

“Honestly?” the scene in the movie they aren’t watching changes to a dramatic contrast of blacks and whites, the moment before the big revelation, “Nah.”

Hal gets the slightest bit offended by it. “ _Nah?_ ”

“Yeah, like. Dunno how to break it to ya, Jordan, but you have like, a _huge_ heart. You love lots. It’s obvious, y’know.”

“I love lots,” did he hit his head sometime around getting married and staying all night long on the couch? “ _Huge_ heart.”

“Don’t believe me if you don’t wanna,” this time, Guy grabs his beer with his left hand so he can use the right one to squeeze Hal’s knee once, twice. The contact is nearly electric. “Hey, who’s that? Ain’t that, what’s his name—”

“Fred Astaire,” the reply comes out without second thought because his mind is still reeling. He has to, he has to sit up straight, needs to look at Guy, look at his face and see his eyes because _what the fuck._ “Why did you—why did you ask me to marry you?”

“Why d’ya think?”

“That’s not—god damn it, Gardner, that’s _not_ an answer!”

“Gardner-Jordan, remember, we hyphenate now.”

Biting his own tongue, Hal forces himself to take a deep breath, to ignore the urge to end this with punches because it might be uncalled for, this time. After all, it’s on him for getting married without knowing why the other even wanted to do it in the first place, right? It’s on him for following through at all.

Guy turns his face then and their eyes meet. There’s a spark and the usual understanding. There’s also something that’s not quite known to Hal. Well, it’s _not_ unknown, he’s seen it before and he’s sure he’s had that same look before, a few times, when he—

And he’d gasp but that’s a cliché. Instead he’s frozen in place, the condensation of his bottle wetting his hand, as Guy leans in closer until they are breathing the same air, until their foreheads are nearly pressed together.

“Why d’ya think I married you, Jordan?” and he’s not merciful. He knows no mercy at all. “Why d’ya marry _me_?”

The world’s tilting off its axis. Metaphorically speaking, of course, because if that were really happening then they wouldn’t be here, on this couch, in Hal’s living room, beer forgotten and so close it would only take one small movement and they’d be, they’d be kissing. Which would be expected, considering their relationship status, now.

_Why did I marry you,_ and Hal can’t even fucking think, let alone remember how to breathe. Why? Because it was a promise? Because he agreed while they both thought they were going to die with their blood combining on the floor, half frozen over, half bruised black and blue? Because he didn’t think much of it then, until he could not stop thinking about it, until he kept thinking of ways to make it happen, until—

He huffs, then, energy coming back full force, and his annoyance is nothing but slight when Guy’s smiling at him in such a knowing way.

“Fuck you,” Hal says, meaning it as he’s smiling a frustrated but loving thing, “you’re such a fucking jerk.”

“That I am,” Guy nods once and that’s all the fanfare their kiss gets.

It’s not desperate. It doesn’t happen in the heat of the moment. It’s a kiss that binds, seals a deal, and it’s one followed by many others. One that maybe should’ve happened quite some time ago but life with its twists and turns delayed up until this very moment. It’s a kiss. It’s _their_ kiss. That’s what matters.

Early afternoon rolls in the outside world. They are in the same bed, wearing the same thing. Absolutely nothing.

“How are we gonna tell the others?”

A heavy arm finds its way around a waist, warm skin on skin a contact they can’t get enough of.

“Eh. Let them figure it out by themselves. They’re gonna kill us anyway.”


End file.
